


Respite

by erraticmusician



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Hair Pulling?, Masturbation, Mentions of Murdoc Niccals, Mentions of past abuse, NOT 2Doc, Recreational Drug Use, Second Chapter contains Murdoc in the flesh, but just a little if you squint, mildly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 20:52:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10907247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticmusician/pseuds/erraticmusician
Summary: Between recording sessions 2D gets some much needed alone time.(This is pretty self-indulgent sorry guys lmao)Phase 3Alt Ending in Ch. 2





	1. Chapter 1

_ Plink _

_ Plink _

_ Plink  _

 

That drip was driving him up the wall. Steady, unrelenting, and just another goddamn thing to hate about forced captivity under Murdoc. How long had it been? A week? Two weeks? A month? 2D had lost count between the seemingly endless recording sessions and that terrifying whale keeping him up during what little sleep Murdoc allowed him to get. 

 

2D collapsed on his rickety bed for the umpteenth time, his shaky hands carding through his already tousled hair. He was out of fags, out of alcohol, out of anything that could relieve him from this nightmare. Biting his nails, he wondered when Murdoc would come back down to fetch him for another recording session. He knew Niccals wasn’t pleased with his last attempt at recording their latest track; That much was evident from the bruises littering his arm after Murdoc had -- 2D shuddered, rubbing the spots absentmindedly. 

 

Looking around the room, 2D spotted the suitcase he had been smuggled here in. That’s odd, he thought, he hadn’t seen the thing since climbing out of it on the beach. Shrugging, he got to his feet. Murdoc must’ve thrown it in here to remind him that even if he legged it out of here he could still get him back. Fucking Murdoc, leave it to him to take away even the slightest bit of happiness 2D could get down here. Letting out a frustrated howl, 2D kicked at the sticker-plastered suitcase, foot connecting weakly with the side. The suitcase jostled anticlimactically, teetering a bit before falling on its side. The latches clicked open, revealing a few seemingly unrelated items. 2D knelt, taking inventory. The suitcase contained a lot of empty beer bottles, probably courtesy of Murdoc. Setting those aside, he dug further into the case, finding a small, airtight cylinder, a lighter, and an almost empty bag of tobacco and rolling papers. Curious. He sat cross legged, plopping down on the hard floor to get a closer look at the small pile of things he’d collected from the suitcase.

 

The tobacco was mostly gone, the last of it clinging to the corners of the bag. The rolling papers were in no better shape -- 2D counted, finding only 3 left. He moved on to the lighter, flicking it open. It was a Zippo, nothing special. He lit it, the flame wavering in the low light of the basement. He set it back down in his lap, finding it to his satisfaction. Last was the cylinder. It looked normal enough, a dark button on the side sticking out. 2D pressed it, the plastic sliding slightly upwards. He tugged at it a bit, and after a few tries it opened with a slight click. 2D squinted, trying to get a better view of the contents. 

 

He didn’t have to look long, the scent wafting out despite the lack of air circulation in the bunker. The singer breathed in, bringing a hand to his mouth excitedly. He fished out a small baggie of pot from the container. He looked up to the door, expecting Murdoc to burst in at any second, confiscating the contraband from him with flailing fists and malice, but the door remained silent. Hands shaking, he pinched a small nug between his thin fingers, rolling it around experimentally. He took another deep breath, taking in the rich smell. Decisions, decisions. An itch to be scratched. This could, this could work. This could let him escape from his situation, if only for a bit. 

 

He scooped up a rolling paper, almost reverently, before breaking the nug up into smaller pieces. 2D placed the pieces along the paper, filling it before bringing it slowly up to his lips. He licked the paper, smoothing it out on his palm. He tucked the joint behind his ear before rising, taking the rest of his newfound treasure with him. He sat gingerly on the bed, taking the lighter from his pocket. He fiddled with it for a bit, still unsure of when Murdoc would come back down to the bunker to yank him back to the recording studio. He steeled himself, taking the joint from behind his ear. Fuck Murdoc, fuck plastic beach. If he could sing despite migraines and aching bruises he could definitely sing through a high. 

 

2D ignited the lighter, bringing the joint to his lips and taking a long drag. The joint bumped gently against the gap where his front teeth should be. He sighed, smoke hanging in the air on his exhale. He felt  _ good _ . The feeling of warmth and light started behind his eyes, spreading down, down, down, nuzzling against his bones. 2D curled his toes, relishing the feeling of floating. He leaned against the wall behind his bed, the cold of the wall contrasting nicely with how heavy and warm his body felt. 2D took another lazy drag, his fingers once again running through his hair. He found himself grinning toothily despite his grim surroundings. He felt warm all over, his breathing even and slow. He sat like that for a bit, just appreciating the feeling of the joint in his hand and the giddiness of smoking for the first time in awhile.

 

2D took another hit, the smoke a bit smoother than the last few hits. He ran his free hand down his body, fingers lingering on his waistband. His breath hitched, catching on smoke. He glanced at the door again, paranoia pricking at the back of his mind. He bit the still-lit joint idly, his smoke-addled thoughts returning to the thought of his hand on his waistband. What could it hurt? If Murdoc barged in and caught him -- 2D swallowed thickly -- that was on him. 

 

He took a final drag on the joint, putting it out on the bed frame. Eyes heavy, he tugged at the edge of his worn t-shirt. He was warm, too warm even. He peeled the shirt off, tossing it to the ground. Chest now bare, he let one hand rest on his partially tented jeans while letting the other leave feather-light touches along his his chest. 2D let out a breathy moan, bucking up into his hand as he pinched a nipple lightly. He bit his lip, the drug making him oversensitive to even the softest of touches. God these pants had to come  _ off _ . He shucked off the jeans, almost desperately, and returned his hand to his now very apparent erection. Palming himself through his jeans, the singer let out another choked moan as a small wet spot formed on his boxers. The friction was  _ good _ , but he needed more, fast. He fiddled with the button clumsily before slipping his cock out through the slit of his boxers. The air was cold against his dick, still leaking precum and begging for attention. 2D spat in his hand, slicking up his cock roughly. Pianist fingers ran through a fistful of hair, yanking at the blue locks. Words garbled with pleasure tumbled from his lips as he increased the pressure on his cock, stroking himself with a trembling but firm hand. 

 

2D threw his head back and rolled his hips into his hand,  finally letting go of any inhibitions he had held earlier. He bit his knuckle, still trying to muffle his moaning as he increased the speed of his strokes. The singer was still prone to putting on a show, even with no one watching. 2D started to pant, his breathing becoming ragged as he rapidly approached coming undone. His other hand returned to his sensitive chest, nails raking down his sides as he fisted his cock. After a final few strokes 2D moaned loudly, spilling over his hand and stomach. 

2D’s hands fell to the bed, his body heavy and sated. After a few long moments, he stood up wobbly, making his way to the tiny bathroom of the bunker. After cleaning himself up in the shower, he returned to the bed, curling up in his warm blankets. In the dim light of the bunker, he stashed the remaining weed and rolling papers into his pillowcase. The lighter, now forgotten on the floor, could wait until later. Sighing contentedly, the singer curled into a ball and drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alt ending,,,, poor 2D

He took a final drag on the joint, putting it out on the bed frame. Eyes heavy, he tugged at the edge of his worn t-shirt. He was warm, too warm even. He peeled the shirt off, tossing it to the ground. Chest now bare, he let one hand rest on his partially tented jeans while letting the other leave feather-light touches along his his chest. 2D let out a breathy moan, bucking up into his hand as he pinched a nipple lightly. He bit his lip, the drug making him oversensitive to even the softest of touches. God these pants had to come  _ off _ . He shucked off the jeans, almost desperately, and returned his hand to his now very apparent erection. Palming himself through his jeans, the singer let out another choked moan as a small wet spot formed on his boxers. The friction was  _ good _ , but he needed more, fast. He fiddled with the button clumsily before slipping his cock out through the slit of his boxers. The air was cold against his dick, still leaking precum and begging for attention. 2D spat in his hand, slicking up his cock roughly. Pianist fingers ran through a fistful of hair, yanking at the blue locks. Words garbled with pleasure tumbled from his lips as he increased the pressure on his cock, stroking himself with a trembling but firm hand. 

 

2D threw his head back and rolled his hips into his hand,  finally letting go of any inhibitions he had held earlier. He bit his knuckle, still trying to muffle his moaning as he increased the speed of his strokes. The singer was still prone to putting on a show, even with no one watching. 2D started to pant, his breathing becoming ragged as he rapidly approached coming undone. His other hand returned to his sensitive chest, nails raking down his sides as he fisted his cock. Caught up in his pleasure, 2D neglected to hear the rumbling of the elevator coming down the shaft. Eyes closed in ecstasy, the singer fucked himself to completion with a loud moan as the doors of the elevator creaked open, revealing an exasperated Murdoc Niccals. 

 

“-ving to record this damn thing for the 3rd time today. Oi 2D get your scrawny arse upstairs before I -- oh.” Murdoc cut himself off, seeing 2D’s rapidly reddening face as he scrambled to hide under his covers, the evidence of his recent activities plain as day. Murdoc was seething, an angry sigh escaping his gritted teeth. 

  
“Go clean yourself up faceache, we have an interview in 10 minutes.” Murdoc growled, throwing a clean outfit in 2D’s general direction before stomping back into the elevator. 2D tried to stutter out an apology, but Murdoc was having none of it, the elevator doors slamming shut. 2D groaned, putting his face into his hands to collect himself. 


End file.
